


The Promise of a Next Time

by ruric



Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Community: fic_promptly, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22550995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: Written for peaceful_sands 2010 prompt: Leverage/Supernatural, Eliot/Dean, sometimes he thinks he could just liquify under that gaze
Relationships: Eliot Spencer/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 6
Collections: fic_promptly Fills 2010





	The Promise of a Next Time

Dean's not used to having anything for himself, and he's been okay with that, he really has. Dad and Sammy and him, they were a family, a team and hunters and it was enough. With the moving every few months and the hunting, it didn't leave much time for anything else. 

Dean learned how to get by; charm, hustle, and keep it light. He's tumbled plenty of girls and more than a few guys into his bed – for a given value of bed because there isn't always one handy – with a smile and a wink and a wince inducing joke. Then he's walked away later that evening - or on very few occasions the next morning – without a backward glance, because the one thing his life has taught him is entanglements get messy and people get hurt.

But when Eliot looks at him like _that_ \- hunger and want and need all wrapped up making his eyes burn brighter than usual? Well Dean thinks he could just liquefy under that gaze. 

Heat curls low in Dean's belly, his skin gooses in anticipation of a touch that's never gentle, because neither of them know how to _do_ gentle. It's always a battle, always a fight, teeth and bites and hissed curses, fingers bruising into muscle, until one of them gets the upper hand. Then there's the waking next morning, aching and spent, most often alone, but sometimes not.

Dean lives for those mornings he wakes to Eliot's mumbled curses and a coffee pushed into his hands across the table of a diner. He lives for the quiet hour where they swap stories over plates of food because they both know how to eat when you don't know where your next meal is coming from. He lives for Eliot's easy smile and the way he sprawls across the diner seats.

When Eliot says "See ya," and walks out the door Dean knows it's not a brush off but a promise that there'll be a next time.


End file.
